


I am still painting flowers for you

by trashcan101



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, carnivals, coming to terms with feelings, introspective snake, otacon being bamboozled into buying too many peanuts, post mgs2 au where everything is fine and snake doesn't get old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 04:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13779936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcan101/pseuds/trashcan101
Summary: Dave has never been to a carnival.Never had fresh-spun cotton candy, never seen the lights of a tilt-a-whirl flash obnoxiously against the night sky, hell, he's never even seen a real carousel.Alternatively: au where after mgs2 everything is fine and snake doesn't age and Snake and Otacon get to experience and explore the world together and Snake gets to be normal. they go to a carnival





	I am still painting flowers for you

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's back... back again...

Dave has never been to a carnival.

Never had fresh-spun cotton candy, never seen the lights of a tilt-a-whirl flash obnoxiously against the night sky, hell, he's never even seen a real carousel.

Granted, he never had the chance to, with Master Miller breathing down his neck and with military endeavors, with Metal Gears before and after philanthropy. No, he's definitely more used to being caked with mud, night-vision goggle lenses even encrusted with a thin layer of muck and grime. He's used to being too dehydrated to even sweat, riddled with heat-stroke and sun-blisters. He's used to freezing cold rivers and his eyelashes coated white, toes numb from frostbite, despite the fact that his suit _was made to keep him warm._

Snake shouldn't be alive to see a carnival. If he'd taken one more misstep, one more bullet-

He sighs silently, closing his eyes slowly, and then opening them again. He's once again, visually assaulted by the reds and yellows spinning and if he doesn't focus his eyes, it's a bokeh of assorted colors, like dust particles in a camera lens.

"Dave?" A familiar voice taps his hand, gently, in an attempt to not startle him.

If Snake is startled, he doesn't show it, lowering his gaze from the spectacle above him to the one below him, clad in a too-big coat and oversized glasses.

It's ridiculous that the scrawny man could make him feel safer than his arsenal of weapons, but a gun can't pat Snake on the shoulder and tell him that it's okay, that it's over now.

"You've... never been to a carnival, have you?" Hal says, voice full of something akin to fondness.

Dave laughs under his breath, his right hand absently fingering the cigarette box in his pocket, opening and closing the flimsy cardboard lid. He misses his gun a little, for the sake of comfort, even though it's just under his shirt in a holster, if something goes wrong.

"Is it that obvious?" He nudges Otacon with his shoulder, though the hint of a smile gives him away immediately. He doesn't mind the banter and jokes; it's the sort of vulnerability that feels right somehow.

"Nah, just to me," Hal smiles, but in a way that lets David know the satisfaction of being able to read _the_ Solid Snake when nobody else can is bubbling under the surface of a nonchalant grin.

"Fair enough," Snake rolls his eyes, not unkindly.

Snake is far too absorbed in the cheery music and the crunch of the mid-frost February grass under his feet to notice he's by himself.

When he does, he jerks his head up in defense mode, scanning the area for his partner. It’s something he’s hardwired to do; looking after Hal was almost as instinctive as looking after himself. It’s a frightening thought when had protecting Hal become so much of a priority that he thought of his safety immediately after his own?

It’s a useless question that he doesn’t let his mind ponder for more than a millisecond; otherwise, he’ll be chasing it in circles inside his head like a puppy seemingly discovering its tail for the first time.

His eyes find Hal a few yards away, awkwardly smiling at the older lady who seemed to be ready for a lengthy discussion about the festival. Unfortunately for Hal, this suburb of a city in Illinois was apparently famous for its _99c pound of boiled peanuts_ and the graying-haired lady seemed to be dead-set on Hal buying them.

Dave just watches him, eyebrows raised into the unkempt hair that badly needed a haircut, amused at the things his partner always managed to get into.

Snake was always rather good at talking his way out of situations, Miller was the embodiment of charisma, even after his youth ended and after his bitterness had settled into the creases under his eyes and the wrinkles on his forehead, Snake still had a hard time not believing whatever Miller told him. He'd learned from the best, he supposed.

Hal, however, hadn't been so auspicious with training. He couldn't say no to anyone, he didn't even want to be mean in the face of danger sometimes. It was almost ridiculous to think that the same man had built a killing machine, had been the literal voice in Dave's head via codec whenever he was standing only yards away from the aforementioned killing machine.

The reminders, though nearly a month has passed, still haven't quite managed to fade from the forefront of his mind, but he feels himself able to pretend just a little more when he sees Hal's shamefaced smile and the peanuts he's carrying that are almost as tall and as wide as him.

Maybe it'll be a little difficult for him to not instinctively look at the peanuts and calculate how long he can subsist on purely boiled nuts before his cognitive functioning and his stamina begin to suffer, but he's doing alright if that's only his second reaction behind a gruff laugh slipping through his lips and into the chilled air, the vapor visible to his eyes due to sub-zero temperatures.

"D'ya have enough peanuts, or will we need a refill?" Dave finds himself saying, hand digging itself into the comforting warmth of the bag before bringing a few to his lips, gnawing on them contentedly, letting the heat seep into his mouth with no rush. He doesn't have to pull these out mid battle, shoving chunks into his mouth as he strafes to avoid the enemy. He can just relax and eat at his own pace. He's allowed to let the salt-fueled dopamine bubble in his brain chemistry and enjoy them as they're meant to be enjoyed.

"I don't know, how long would it take you to finish them?" Hal says, a twinkle in his eyes not entirely obscured by the lenses delicately balanced on his nose.  
Dave snorts, rolling his eyes at the man in front of him. It really depends on how fast the nanomachines could help him digest them. He reckons he could probably eat them at an alarming speed that would be disgusting if it weren't so impressive to most people without the Nanos.

"Why? Do you fancy a contest?" Snake quips, bumping Otacon with his shoulder, careful to be gentle with him. He knows that it probably annoys Hal that he's so deliberately soft with him, but it speaks to the frightened part of him deep inside that knows he could crush Hal if he wanted to.

Hal frowns, though his eyes are still alight with a mixture of cheer and the reflection of the lights flickering in the blackness of his pupils. He doesn't bother to be gentle with Snake, crashing his bony shoulders into Dave's arms for all he's worth and if Dave were a different man, he'd have staggered or stumbled into the bouncy house.

"No, 'cause you'd beat me."

Dave allows himself to cackle at that, louder than usual and he expects people to stop and stare at his unusual behavior, but here, at this carnival, nobody but Hal knows who he is. He could just start manically screeching or dancing around and people would just overlook it and think he's just another drunk and bumbling idiot taking advantage of the warm, mulled wine.

Hal looks a little caught off guard, but nevertheless pleased and relaxed to see Snake this unguarded and exposed. From all his time spent with Snake, he's learned to mirror his emotions and that if Snake feels safe, they most likely are safe.

After a moment, Hal drags his gaze away, ending the moment before it gets too much, gets too deep for the line of friendship they've been tip-toeing around for years. It seems that no matter where Dave walks, he always ends back up at that metaphorical line.

But it's okay, he's not upset with it. He's becoming more and more at peace with the fact that his heart twinges whenever the daylight hits Hal a certain way and with the fact that Hal looks so cute in his jackets whenever he's cold and borrows Snake's.

Sometimes it still freaks him out because he's not used to the idea of anything more than mild platonic relationships. He's felt lust, he's felt passionate emotions, but he's never felt anything this close to pure. He was too scared to feel anything that was affectionate and not based on fighting or anything that wasn't spiked with anger. Snake had always run away from people he could easily hurt because he was built for war, meant to fight and it was what he was good at. He didn't feel like quite as much of a monster if the other person was one, too.

But Hal, Hal never saw him as the monster he saw in his reflection. Hal gave him his trust instantaneously, never cared that he had only caused chaos and annihilation in his wake. Hal never saw him as a legend but as a _man_. To think that Hal still sees him as that, after recon missions have gone wrong and Hal has had to look away and cover his ears from the sickening crunch of a neck being snapped when there was no option left, is hardly feasible for him to comprehend.

Hal has consistently chosen to look past the things he's done out of necessity and instead focus on all the people Snake had risked his life to save, all the times he'd tranquilized people without a suppressor because though it was dangerous, it weighed less on his conscience. Hal instead remembered him as the man who'd literally taken bullets for him and as the man who he'd caught staying up and keeping watch when he didn't even have to.

Snake doesn't know how he manages to keep a firm grip on his blind optimism, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't grateful for it.

"Cotton Candy!" Hal says, grabbing him by the hand and now he's forcibly ripped away from his thoughts and even though Snake could easily resist his grip, he feels no need to. Maybe it's symbolic, the way that even though he could easily wrench his hand away and walk whichever direction he pleases, he won't. He'll follow Hal to the end of the Earth if he'll let him, will skip over the imaginary line they've created in their own minds if it means that Hal will wait for him.

For once in his life, his fingers don't tremble for a gun, they're content with the chill of someone else's fingers.

Hal's not looking in his direction anymore, but he doesn't need to be. Dave's content to wait in line with Hal as he scans his wide eyes over the flavors of cotton candy. His much smaller hand is still practically cradled in Dave's massive, calloused one, and it's rather nice, Dave thinks.

Otacon either forgot to let go or decided that at that moment, he didn't care and wanted to hold Dave's hand.

Oddly enough, Dave finds that for now, he's content with either one of the possibilities.


End file.
